


Split

by Rotpeach



Series: The Great Tumblr Rehoming of 2018 [14]
Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Gen, Graphic Description, Medical Experimentation, Parasites, ear trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2019-09-16 10:32:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16952376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rotpeach/pseuds/Rotpeach
Summary: The "you hatched some new babies" ending.





	Split

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for goretober 2016; prompt "other bodily fluid"

Sano flicks the side of the syringe and the cloudy liquid inside swirls around. “This is going to be the last experiment,” he says with a long-suffering sigh, sounding almost bored. You think this might be cause for worry.

You wince when his gloved fingertips press down on your skin to find a vein, knowing what’s coming, but you’ve grown accustomed to the pain of the needle. When it slips into your arm, you hardly flinch. You clear your throat and his eyes flick to your face. “Um. So are you going to let me go after this?” you ask.

He regards you impassively, still moving his fingers along the underside of your arm as though pushing something through you. “After this,” he says, “I’ll be done with you.”

You swallow nervously and look down at your own arm. You tell yourself not to panic. That doesn’t really mean anything, does it? He didn’t say “no.” Maybe, if you survive whatever he just injected you with, you’ll get to leave.

(Now you’re just lying to yourself.)

You lie back and try to relax, staring at the ceiling and listening to Sano settle down at his desk and start writing something down. You can at least say with confidence that it’s almost over. You’ve been burned, bruised, cut open and stitched shut more times than you can count, and knowing that relief is close

(the kind where you live, you tell yourself, the kind where you walk out of here in one piece)

helps you relax.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. The sterilized smell of the room reminds you of hospitals and doctor’s offices.

(Of this one time when you woke to a strange, low buzzing and rubbed at your ear, only for it to get louder. You sat up in a panic when you realized something was in there, inside your ear canal, trying to move around and beating its wings in a panic against your eardrum. You tried, you tried to get it out, stumbled into the bathroom and dug your finger into your ear but you just pushed it in deeper, just irritated it further and made it louder, louder until it was starting to hurt.

You sat in the doctor’s office and smelled this same sterile odor, legs shaking and shoulders trembling, flinching and whimpering whenever it struggled inside of your head, so far in that you feared it would never come out.)

Thinking about it makes you shiver and touch your hands to your head in paranoia because you almost think you can hear it again, the buzzing and chittering and _scritch scritch scritch_ deep inside of your head. You breathe in. Hold it. Let it out.

Feel something.

Your eyes fly open and you take another shaky breath. It’s just your imagination. You shouldn’t have thought about it at all because now it’s just going to haunt you. You look over at Sano and he’s leaning back in his chair with a book, but you see him glance up from time to time. You avert your eyes and try to calm down.

But then you hear it again. It’s muffled but you can still hear it, can still feel it, echoing inside of your head (your mind?). It’s that same skittering of little legs and gnashing of little pincers against your soft tissue, that same high-pitch buzz-whine squeak-scratching you remember

(because you have never forgotten you cannot forget the feeling of something inside of your fucking head).

“Sano?” you call, and you hear the panic lacing your voice despite your efforts to keep it out.

He turns the page before he looks up. “Hm?”

“I. Uh.”

( _Scritch scritch scritch_ it goes inside, inside, so deep inside that you think you’ll just have to live with it now and forever, living there, laying eggs in there, tearing your head apart)

“I just. I wondered. Uh.”

(louder now louder and closer and inside inside

wait

wait wait this isnt right this isnt)

“D-do you hear that buzzing?” you ask, laughing weakly. “M-maybe it’s just m-me but….”

(this isn’t _right_ they’re inside not just inside but _inside_ inside on the wrong side this isn’t something that crawled in this is something that wants _out_ )

“Oh god,” you mumble, clutching your head. “Oh god oh god oh god….”

“Ah,” Sano says, setting the book down and coming around his desk to get a better look at you. “It seems your body heat accelerated the incubation process.”

“Wh-what did you do to me?” you whimper, trembling fingers digging into your own scalp.

(It hurts it hurts it hurts how many of them are in there how many of them are crawling all over each other chittering to one another and eating you _eating you_ like you are carrion already dead already fit to be their food how many)

“Turn this way, please,” Sano says, and you’re shivering, your hands are shaking and your teeth are chattering, but you do your best to look at him and

immediately regret it.

The lights are too bright; your vision is warping and blurring, colors that weren’t there a minute ago are bleeding into your line of sight, turning the whole room a deep, pulsing indigo. You see spirals; serpents and centipedes, cold eyes and coiling bodies. You pitch forward but Sano catches you by the shoulders before you can fall off of the table and helps you lay back down.

You clutch at the front of his labcoat. “You said…you said you would be done with me after this.”

He nods. “I was telling the truth,” he says, putting a hand on your head.

You feel a surge of movement from within you, a wriggling mass making its way higher and higher as though reaching for his hand. You hear it louder than ever, the tapping of thousands of legs over hard carapaces, and for just a moment there is white-hot, blinding pain—and then there is nothing. Your vision darkens at the edges and you still feel a weight inside your head, still hear tissue ripping and tearing, hear Sano stick his hands into something wet

(that’s you that’s your head his hands are in your head)

but you’re numb other than that, your eyelids fluttering as your body grows heavy.

Something warm and wet splatters across your face, rolling down from your scalp over your nose and mouth. You smell copper but you taste something salty and sweet. Your hearing starts to go, every noise that isn’t the buzzing in your head nothing but a distant hum as your ear canal begins to fill with liquid, something viscous that rolls in large beads down the sides of your face and your throat, hitting the table like raindrops.

Something slimy walks across your forehead with too many legs. Your grip on his labcoat loosens until your arm falls limp at your side and you stare at the ceiling until the noise is unbearable, a swelling cacophony of deafening buzzing right close by right next to you right inside of you and you feel your eardrum _shatter_

and then—

**Author's Note:**

> original commentary included: "shoutout to the friend who got a midday text from me asking what cerebrospinal fluid might taste like and then sent me back puns  
> why do you do this"
> 
> and the tag "rotpeach regrets"


End file.
